<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13768938</id><updated>2011-11-13T11:56:34.227+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Damascene</title><subtitle type='html'>Dam·a·sce·een [dam-uh-seen, dam-uh-seen]
adj: of or pertaining to the city of Damascus</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Damascene</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03174317764743465515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>11</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13768938.post-3087825848933681564</id><published>2011-02-13T00:58:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2011-02-13T01:06:24.857+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Joy</title><content type='html'>i know its time to make a change. and i know that it will take a lot of strength. some ppl r better than others and i happen to be at the first step of the ladder; holding clumsily and swaying w the wind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i often wonder how hard this is going to be. perhaps harder than most battles - for u know what yer in a battle for and what yer up against. the future is darkness, pitch black. it might be victorious or a life long struggle. i am not sure of own strength.. but i do know that im getting stronger every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;the last 8 months have been joy - thank you for keeping me blind folded in joy. i cud almost remember no dark times&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13768938-3087825848933681564?l=dimashqiya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/feeds/3087825848933681564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13768938&amp;postID=3087825848933681564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/3087825848933681564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/3087825848933681564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/2011/02/joy.html' title='Joy'/><author><name>Damascene</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03174317764743465515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13768938.post-3228562674469942691</id><published>2010-08-14T02:17:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2010-08-14T02:27:20.346+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Here and Now</title><content type='html'>This is dedicated to you; for being in this period of my life. I honestly dont know why; how and why again - for the universe has its twisted perks. Its abnormal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For anyone who cares to listen to me nowadays and since i gave up on ever understanding whats going around me; i have a small confession to make. if things were different; i wud have surrendered long time ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;262012&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13768938-3228562674469942691?l=dimashqiya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/feeds/3228562674469942691/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13768938&amp;postID=3228562674469942691' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/3228562674469942691'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/3228562674469942691'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/2010/08/here-and-now.html' title='Here and Now'/><author><name>Damascene</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03174317764743465515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13768938.post-2157675820870059779</id><published>2009-12-18T13:57:00.006+03:00</published><updated>2009-12-18T14:15:40.744+03:00</updated><title type='text'>StatiC</title><content type='html'>I am finally at a place where i feel nothing. I wish for nothing and I aim to do nothing.&lt;br /&gt;It is very simple really when you finally put your mind to live lightly.&lt;br /&gt;Or perhaps im just a result of a wild crazy 2009, my brain cells are unable to cope with the amount of thoughts running thru it. My brain decided to go galacial and take time off by giving me nothing to feed on. I currently exist with a transparent glass wall around me. All my emotions are confined to a 10 min period where life becomes that shade of foggy white on a chilly morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And its really annoying too, for in this stage, although u have no expectations whatsoever and any passing feeling is just a millisecond in that empty existence, you seem to lose the ability to even talk about anything. I welcomed the loss of feeling but not the loss of words. Loss of communication is grave for those who are around you, because it is a foreseable reason for disasters to come. I dont want to say its solitude, it just that, my conversations have become too repetitive and disorderly for my liking, so my brain (once again) took command of my being and decided to silence those lips from uttering the same none sense.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided (maybe after a friend saw this n reminded me that i occupy a few milli nano MBs on a server) that i shud include some interesting events into this blog of mine.. things about my life. Maybe, in 20 years or so, someone might use it as a marker of history and I would finally have fullfilled my duty as a blogger : someone will eventually read and comment on something. Afterall, isnt this why we blog?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway to continue with this sudden idea, a friend called me last night, almost 8 years of complete disappearance, partly because we decided to become adults .. We were together in school, we shared so many things (funny + sad).. We both enjoyed brief marital existence for a while and we're both extremely single at the moment. So 8 years of disapperance, prompted him to call me last night to ask me if i know any girls around for him to marry .. Usually im an enthusiast of such requests and go hi / low to find something suitable, but all i kept on thinking last night is: Why me ? I suggested a few names, promsied to call back in a couple of days if i remembered anything and ended the call. But i couldnt help think what wud push someone to ask a complete stranger such a question ? (for those of who are unfamiliar with our culture, this is called match making). Of all the people he knows, why has he selected me? Revenge, love, familiarity or just plain stupidity !&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For anyone who knows me personally and the crazy things that have been happening in my life lately, they realize the irony of the situation.. 2 weeks away from the end of an epic disasturous year: 2009&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13768938-2157675820870059779?l=dimashqiya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/feeds/2157675820870059779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13768938&amp;postID=2157675820870059779' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/2157675820870059779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/2157675820870059779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/2009/12/static.html' title='StatiC'/><author><name>Damascene</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03174317764743465515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13768938.post-3187772536058511056</id><published>2009-03-09T22:21:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2009-03-09T22:31:05.153+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Denial</title><content type='html'>I donno how many times ive decided against writing in this blog&lt;br /&gt;i donno how many times ive decided to give up on reality&lt;br /&gt;i donno how many times ive decided to let go of social boundries and scream FREE.. run with my naked feet on the cold cold marble on a spring day..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just another ramble.. from yet another speckle of dust in this incoherent world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Am rite at the start of a very weird forky way. I look rite and left.. there's no traffic yet i cant seem to be able to cross the road. Almost too afraid to sleep, almost too afraid to wake up. Too afraid to acknowledge the fact; that battles are lost by the great ones, weak ones, and the wanna-bes. We're born to think we're great.. our parents' eagery eyes, hands and everything else push us to stardom.. but one tumble down that cliff of life, knocks the papa noel fantasy out of you at the speed of a second&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2009, with heavy greivances, it started and it still is starting .. with nasty turns and twists; with a manifested demon behind every corner..waiting to spring just at the sight of a silhouette.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit that im defeated - having lived up to the expecatations that i was the conquerer,, the agressor, the BRIGHT. But to wake up one day, and find yourself the preached rather than the preacher, puts things into perspective. at the age of half a century and a few, its a lesson learnt too late.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I steer the wheel, i take the lead and stop the menace of this manic family, yet i stun myself with utter denial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Denial it maybe, but the consequences are far from labeled thus.. never been a viper shy of stinging.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gudnite&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13768938-3187772536058511056?l=dimashqiya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/feeds/3187772536058511056/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13768938&amp;postID=3187772536058511056' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/3187772536058511056'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/3187772536058511056'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/2009/03/denial.html' title='Denial'/><author><name>Damascene</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03174317764743465515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13768938.post-6863912891407597931</id><published>2008-09-27T18:06:00.002+03:00</published><updated>2008-09-27T18:08:19.251+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Strange Feeling</title><content type='html'>Its strange to be returning to this post after a year and a half :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cant say that much changed about my life; I remain as insignifcant as the dust. And that in-istelf might be a blessing..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What has changed ? Nothing. I stand still in the storm of events..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;am i content ? No.Its pure human nature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My birthday draws near and im worried.. of those wrinkles being too showy for everyone to see&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13768938-6863912891407597931?l=dimashqiya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/feeds/6863912891407597931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13768938&amp;postID=6863912891407597931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/6863912891407597931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/6863912891407597931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/2008/09/strange-feeling.html' title='Strange Feeling'/><author><name>Damascene</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03174317764743465515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13768938.post-361042677084810842</id><published>2007-06-09T15:28:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-06-09T15:31:25.780+03:00</updated><title type='text'>electricity</title><content type='html'>Crossroads..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thats wat life is all about. am about to ditch another one in the BIN. and its not becoming my favourite game.&lt;br /&gt;Altho i have to admit, that this time it lasted for a while.&lt;br /&gt;I still have to give one more gift and that will be IT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok and there's the issue about the cat ofcourse.&lt;br /&gt;Once he secures the cat, he's done for it.&lt;br /&gt;i really and truely feel horrible about what am doing right now, but there's no escaping it. i was honest to myself rite from the beginning. i gave him another chance; just like i was advised. But cupid, has struck his arrow somewhere else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, mirror mirror on the wall..&lt;br /&gt;where is he ?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13768938-361042677084810842?l=dimashqiya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/feeds/361042677084810842/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13768938&amp;postID=361042677084810842' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/361042677084810842'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/361042677084810842'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/2007/06/electricity.html' title='electricity'/><author><name>Damascene</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03174317764743465515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13768938.post-7925917700544891931</id><published>2007-06-06T21:18:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-06-06T21:26:38.015+03:00</updated><title type='text'>propoSal</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;i cant -- i seriously cant believe that its been that long since i last wrote in here.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;anyway, my world is a mplete whirlwill of ups and downs.. so many things has happend the previous two months that i donno where to start.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Most significantly tho, i got proposed to by the most unlikely person to propse on this earth. His proposal came as a total shock to me, where its effects caused sadness rather than joy, tears rather than laughter and a lot of unhappy thoughts.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I had to, forcibly, quit my double edged 'silly' life, knowing that there is no point of return to the womb of carelessness. Oh the rush of feelings have escaped my soul.. what i feel now is numbness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The irony which consistently seeks my life as a companion has halted my 'supposed' engagement to this person whom i RESPECT very much and right now,, i feel that am juggling insanity with arms wide open.. i ve reached the Pit of actualization and can no longer take the twistedness of fate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Most of all, i miss my half, my soul, my total existence. and when i say i miss, i mean, i die a thousand deaths a day and wonder,, what should 've been.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ihave to say that ive stopped my diet and am off to take a bite of yummy chocolate.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Perhaps we meet very soon.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13768938-7925917700544891931?l=dimashqiya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/feeds/7925917700544891931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13768938&amp;postID=7925917700544891931' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/7925917700544891931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/7925917700544891931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/2007/06/proposal.html' title='propoSal'/><author><name>Damascene</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03174317764743465515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13768938.post-1833466096773079297</id><published>2007-03-10T21:08:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-03-10T21:15:09.423+03:00</updated><title type='text'>the words</title><content type='html'>today i received a call from a friend ive known for the past 7 years and he summarized that am no longer a COOL person&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;then i made another call to a friend who so frankly said: enti 3anasti.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;well thank you friends, i guess this is wat friends are for.. to spit out the truth to you, disregarding any boundries of respect for feelings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;did i mention that those two friends are guys?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;i could summarize my past week as hellish for the following reasons:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-- a lot of girls i know are getting engaged to a lot of rich ppl&lt;br /&gt;-- a friend of mine arrived from the UK and right now am just not in the mood for entertainement.. i had 2 endure a 3 hour long 'wifes' chatting' about kids, married life and then kids again.. i had to pass my hand overy my tummy and feel its emptiness for the millionth time.. only to be shocked by the truth that i am not actually married.. :)&lt;br /&gt;-- i was not invited to a fun engagement party.. not that i care much about the girl, but a lot of my friends are attending; it would have been nice to be there.&lt;br /&gt;-- my boss quit; making that in itself a total disaster&lt;br /&gt;-- having to go thru the stupid feeling of being unloved and totally deserted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;anyway, another hellish week to pass thru.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dimashq&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13768938-1833466096773079297?l=dimashqiya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/feeds/1833466096773079297/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13768938&amp;postID=1833466096773079297' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/1833466096773079297'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/1833466096773079297'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/2007/03/words.html' title='the words'/><author><name>Damascene</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03174317764743465515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13768938.post-8467486103634740716</id><published>2007-02-28T21:07:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-02-28T21:09:44.056+03:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;its not and will not be how i intend to live my life. again im stuck in a sticky situation,, where i cant let go nor get too attached.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;right now, am in self loathing status.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13768938-8467486103634740716?l=dimashqiya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/feeds/8467486103634740716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13768938&amp;postID=8467486103634740716' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/8467486103634740716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/8467486103634740716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/2007/02/its-not-and-will-not-be-how-i-intend-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Damascene</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03174317764743465515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13768938.post-3017931935212560502</id><published>2007-02-25T19:30:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-02-25T19:40:11.044+03:00</updated><title type='text'>Impressive</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Its amazing how ppl have gone to xtreme lengths to make their blogs look terrific. i tried goofing around and im not yet happy w/ the result; however i prefer this layout to the preivous Black.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Black was a description of state a couple of years ago in my life.&lt;br /&gt;how did i feel: black&lt;br /&gt;wat am i wearing: black&lt;br /&gt;wat do i c: black&lt;br /&gt;name: ummm , black?&lt;br /&gt;wat movies do i like: meet Joe Black (off topic)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who has time to read wat other ppl are currently feeling, thinking, eating, doing at this very moment? i xpect this is just another form of keeping a journal, xcept that you get to type it neatly and its no longer private (even if you priviligize your entries).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;enough of this worthless rant.. grandpa is ill and im having nightmares.&lt;br /&gt;he's supposed to attend my wedding and God knows if ill ever get married that is. prospects are currently nill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13768938-3017931935212560502?l=dimashqiya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/feeds/3017931935212560502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13768938&amp;postID=3017931935212560502' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/3017931935212560502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/3017931935212560502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/2007/02/impressive.html' title='Impressive'/><author><name>Damascene</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03174317764743465515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13768938.post-8183749213655103151</id><published>2007-02-24T23:42:00.000+03:00</published><updated>2007-02-25T19:29:56.812+03:00</updated><title type='text'>1st thing's 1st</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#663300;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;It's all sounding too silly for me..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;i already feel like a subordinate.. being one speck of waste in this huge universe.. i wouldnt even label myself as a speck; when mother earth obviously plays a bigger role at being just that.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;so am left with the rediculed fact that am just another 'show off w/ no obvious talent for writing' person; whose hopes at the moment are compromised of finding a suitable attire to wear to work tomorrow.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;another indulgence, wud be an instant blog success that would turn my already over sized ego to XXXL.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Anyway, hopefully ill remember to return, if i remember that im now officially registered as an up to date member of the cyber world. Perhaps i owe this world a favour by returning; altho my xistence will be limited to my own; as my normal human like friends,, are just that: human non bloggers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;goodnite.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/13768938-8183749213655103151?l=dimashqiya.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/feeds/8183749213655103151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=13768938&amp;postID=8183749213655103151' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/8183749213655103151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/13768938/posts/default/8183749213655103151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dimashqiya.blogspot.com/2007/02/1st-things-1st.html' title='1st thing&apos;s 1st'/><author><name>Damascene</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/03174317764743465515</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
